The Nightmares
by panni2
Summary: Cas may have taken the "crazy" from Sam's head, but the nightmares remain. They seem to be getting worse every night. Should Sam tell Dean?
1. Chapter 1

Castiel had given him so much. Or taken away, to be more precise. The doubt, the weariness, the desperation, it all faded when Cas transferred the crazy from his mind. Sam could now see the difference between reality and the hallucinations his broken mind had previously conjured up. No more irritating Lucifer torturing him with the doubt of his sanity. No more frantic clawing at the scar on his hand, clinging on to what little hope in his brother he had left. Sam could eat, he could sleep, and he was grateful. But, no matter how hard they tried, no power on earth or from the heavens (let alone hell) could possibly stop the nightmares.

They came every night, and Sam knew this night would be no different. He reminded himself over and over again that he was in a dreary motel room with his brother and not in the cage with vengeful angels. Even though he still hung onto the hope that one day it would all be over, he knew deep down that his nightly encounters would never fade. He swept his gaze over the peaceful room while listening to his brother's gentle snores, bracing himself for sleep. The truth was, he was terrified. No matter how many times he repeated to himself, "I am free. They cannot get to me here." the dreams were always too vivid. He knew, that if he closed his eyes and gave into the pull of sleep, that he would find himself right alongside Lucifer and Michael, most likely strung up or on fire. But, he had to, for the sake of Dean. Dean would definitely question the circles under his eyes the next morning. With all Dean had gone through, Sam couldn't give him another bucket load of crap to worry about. Even if he did tell Dean, there would be nothing he could do. It would tear him apart when he couldn't stop the torture in Sam's head. Sam sighed. He might as well get it over with. Closing his eyes, he let his head fall back in resignation.

Sleep took him over greedily, locking him away from the comfort of the cozy motel room. Sam had no time to take in his surroundings before a searing pain filled his whole body. It engulfed him, the pain, allowing no other emotion a chance to escape. There was no chance for hope or love to give Sam the slightest bit of reassurance that he would make it through the hurt.

"Welcome back, Sammy," he heard a sly voice say. "I think you'll be impressed of my plans for you today. We're going to mix it up a bit." Sam's only reply was a scream as Lucifer plunged a knife into his chest.

It seemed to go on for hours. Sam's voice was hoarse and tears were streaming down his cheeks. His whole body was begging for mercy. But still, Sam would not beg. He would not beg to the angels that ruined his life. The angels that were the cause of distrust between him and his brother, they were the reason so many people had died. The apocalypse was merely a squabble between two immature siblings who would have taken out the world without thinking twice. No, he would not beg to the bastards.

"Sam!" he heard faintly.

"Oh, shut up, Lucifer and leave me alone," Sam managed to croak painfully. The voice didn't seem to care that Sam didn't want to be bothered because it insisted yelling his name repeatedly. The voice got louder and louder until Sam jolted awake, finding himself in bed once again, tangled in sheets. Looking around, he saw Dean smiling at him from across the room, fully dressed. Seeing Sam's distressed expression, Dean's smile wavered and concern flashed across his face.

"Hey, you okay?" his older brother asked him, frightened of what might be going through Sam's head. The younger sibling managed to pull off a smile that seemed to set Dean at ease before replying.

"Yeah, let's hit the road. We have work to do."


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's note: I do not own any of these amazing characters! _

Chapter 2

Dean had a nagging feeling there was something seriously bothering his brother. His smile was always a little forced and the way he woke up that morning worried the hell out of the protective brother. But, he supposed Hell could do that to you. He knew only too well what it was like the first few weeks back from the torture. Everything had seemed surreal. He had half expected for the world to melt away and he would find himself in Hell once again. But, compared to him, Sam had been there for much longer. Dean had hardly made it back sane. He couldn't imagine what it was like for Sam.

"I'm too tired." Dean's heart cracked when he thought back to Sam's words at the hospital. His tough little brother had been broken, acceptant of his fate to die slowly with Lucifer cackling in his ears. He had given up. Sam never gave up. Even when everything had seemed hopeless, Sam had always pushed forward, creating his own path in the blizzard that was their life. It suddenly hit Dean how helpless Sam had felt, to finally despair.

"Next," a bored voice jerked him out of his dark memories. Pushing his thoughts to the back of his mind, he advanced to the checkout counter with his groceries and usual "reading" material. The cute, blonde cashier immediately straitened herself and flashed her best smile before taking the merchandise from Dean and scanning the items. She raised an eyebrow at his choice in magazine, but didn't comment. Dean's only response was a shrug along with a sheepish smile. He never was a shy man. After receiving the receipt and a new phone number to add to his collection, Dean walked back to his beloved Impala, containing a brooding Sam.

"Got you your favorite, rabbit food!" Dean exclaimed with forced enthusiasm. He walked over to the driver's side, gracefully plopped into his seat, and dumped the bags into Sam's lap. Sam made a show of sweeping everything onto the floor, glaring at Dean, then returning to his former position of gazing out the window. Dean sighed. He didn't know how to act around Sam anymore. Should he pretend nothing is going on, or should he ask yet again if there was something bothering him? But, he was tired of asking. He was tired of getting the same, boring, aggravating lie.

"I'm fine."

He settled for concerned, but not obsessive older brother.

"Dude, you have to eat something," he instructed his younger sibling.

"Not hungry," came the annoyed reply.

"You're never hungry anymore," Dean argued. "Come on, Sam." Sam didn't reply. After waiting a few seconds to see if his idiot brother was going to give up his childish act, he angrily turned the key and sped out of the parking lot, on the way to their next gig.

Sam was thankful they had a crazy case to work on. Usually, he would have been stressed out, but he felt only relief this time. He finally had a valid excuse for staying up all night. All he had to do was blame his tired eyes on all the research he was doing. Dean probably (hopefully) wouldn't see through his façade. Sam let out a tired sigh. He was sitting at the small table in the usual bleak motel room, trying to figure out what of Sally May's could still be out there. They had already burned her corpse, but she was still out to get them. They never seemed to be able to scrape together enough luck to have a simple salt and burn anymore. There was always something more, something that they only figured out when it was almost too late. He dropped his head in his hands and tried to gather up what he knew about the murderous ghost.

His thoughts were interrupted when Dean pushed the bathroom door open, letting it bang against the wall.

"Your turn, Sam," he told his brother. "I may have left a little hot water for you. Then, we can both hit the hay." Dean fell back onto the bed, clearly exhausted. They had been driving around the town the whole day, asking around about their case. No one had known much about Sally besides the fact that she was an orphan and that even her adopted family was dead. There was no one that would have any of her possessions or even a lock of her hair.

"Maybe later. I need to research this case some more. We have no leads," Sam replied with his previously thought out excuse.

"I'm sure it can at least wait until tomorrow morning," Dean argued. "We've been at it all day."

"People are dying, Dean!" Sam shot back. He was growing frantic. He couldn't face the nightmares tonight. The images from the night before were still gallivanting through his head. He needed something else to focus on, anything else.

"Fine, Sam. Suit yourself," his brother mumbled angrily, too tired to argue. The younger brother breathed a sigh of relief and closed his eyes. He couldn't deny the truth, he was totally worn out from the day's work and from the nightly strain of his nightmares. It felt so calming to sit there, back slouched against the back of the chair, his eyes finally resting behind his eyelids. Maybe he could just rest for a little while. Maybe the nightmares wouldn't bother him this once. His nightmares. NO. Sam's eyes popped open. He couldn't fall asleep. The nightmares would always come, always tormenting him. He needed a break, just one night. He would sleep tomorrow, he promised mentally. Nodding to himself, he focused his gaze back on the computer screen.

_TBC…_


End file.
